"Let me another truth attempt, Of which your godship has not dreamt: Those shining virtues which you muster, Whence think you they derive their lustre? From native honour and devotion! O yes! a mighty likely notion! Trust me, from titled dames to spinners, 'Tis I make saints, whoe'er make sinners; 'Tis I instruct them to withdraw, And hold presumptuous man in awe; For female worth as I inspire, In just degrees, still mounts the higher, And VIRTUE so extremely nice, Demands long toil and mighty price; Like SAMPSON'S pillars, fix'd elate, I bear the sex's tott'ring state; Sap these, and in a moment's space, Down sinks the fabric to its base. "Alike from titles, and from toys, I spring, the fount of female joys; In ev'ry widow, wife, and miss, The sole artificer of bliss. For them each tropic I explore; I cleave the sand of ev'ry shore; To them uniting INDIA'S sail, SABÆA breathes her farthest gale; For them the bullion I refine, Dig sense and virtue from the mine; And from the bowels of invention, Spin out the various arts you mention. "Nor bliss alone my pow'rs bestow, They hold the sov'reign balm of woe; Beyond the stoic's boasted art, I soothe the heavings of the heart; To pain give splendor, and relief, And gild the pallid face of grief. "Alike the palace and the plain, Admit the glories of my reign; Thro' ev'ry age, in ev'ry nation, Taste, talents, tempers, state, and station, Whate'er a woman says, I say; Whate'er a woman spends, I pay; Alike I fill and empty bags, Flutter in finery and rags; With light coquets thro' folly range, And with the prude disdain to change. "And now, you'd think, 'twixt you and I, That things were ripe for a reply-- But soft--and while I'm in the mood, Kindly permit me to conclude; Their utmost mazes to unravel, And touch the farthest step they travel: "When ev'ry pleasure's run a-ground, And folly tir'd thro' many a round; The nymph, conceiving discontent hence, May ripen to an hour's repentance, And vapours shed in pious moisture, Dismiss her to a church or cloister; Then on I lead her, with devotion Conspicuous in her dress and motion; Inspire the heav'nly-breathing air, Roll up the lucid eye in pray'r, Soften the voice, and in the face Look melting harmony and grace. "Thus far extends my friendly pow'r, Nor quits her in her latest hour; The couch of decent pain I spread, In form recline her languid head; Her thoughts I methodize in death, And part not with her parting breath; Then do I set, in order bright, A length of fun'ral pomp to sight; The glitt'ring tapers, and attire, The plumes that whiten o'er her bier; And last, presenting to her eye Angelic fineries on high, To scenes of painted bliss I waft her, And form the heav'n she hopes hereafter."